Dead End Train
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Platform four, this was written in yellow, bold writing, on the screen, for the train to Scarborough. The steep secluded stairs were ageing over the years. I descended down the steps which were black and slimy. As I approached the platform I noticed there was queer silence – there wasnt a soul in sight. I waited patiently for the seven fifteen.
The shadows stirred restlessly as though someone had disturbed them. Discarded crisp packets were among many items littered carelessly by ignorant passengers. The wind howled now and then and the air became cooler as the nights were becoming longer.
It was now exactly seven fifteen, and that moment the train rushed by until it finally came to a halt. The doors opened with a slight creak. I entered the cabin nearest to the driver and took a seat. The train moved off again as the doors closed behind me.
The atmosphere was very hot and humid; this made me take off my pullover. There was one passenger in the cabin. He had a funny-shaped nose, was pretty tall but his face was hidden behind an old fashioned hat. He was dressed formally: with a black suit; a red striped tie which stood out like a sore thumb and black leather shoes which looked striking.
We approached the next station – Green Hill. The passenger looked like he was getting off; he stood up and advanced towards the doors nearest to him. As the doors opened the gentlemen turned around at me and gave me a grin – an evil grin. Simultaneously he stepped out of the train and walked off hurriedly. Immediately, the doors closed and the train was off again.
Two more stops till Scarborough, I thought. The train moved calmly and swiftly through the tunnels. The train looked dark and evil and didnt give out much light at all. This made the shadows more lively and energetic, as you could see them moving in and out of the cabins.
The journey seemed to take